


Curiosity

by abbeypop



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Arthur Fleck x Reader, arthur fleck - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-06 05:57:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbeypop/pseuds/abbeypop
Summary: A three part Arthur Fleck x Reader story





	1. Chapter 1

It was your first day at Ha Has Amusements. Party clown wasn’t your first career of choice, but it seemed like easy money, and you got hired on the spot. You saw a flyer on a street corner and took a chance, knowing that wearing a wig and clown makeup was better than offering five dollar blow jobs just to get by. 

The office smelt like stale cigarettes and booze, and Hoyt, the boss, was already shaping up to be quite the ass, and a perv. You entered the dressing room, which was littered with portraits of clowns and nude women, and put your bags down by the lockers. You took your mirror and makeup bag out, carefully laying out the paints and brushes on the bench beside you. You could feel them staring at you, their eyes became fixed when you walked in. Men who dressed up as clowns for a living never thought they would share their space with a woman, let alone such a young and attractive one. You expected this, most of your previous jobs had all been staffed by men, with you as the only acception. Even outside of work boys would always keep you around, just for the eye candy. 

You started to apply your makeup, trying to ignore their incessant staring. It only took a few moments of concentration before you were finished with the look. Blue triangles above and below your eyes, red circles on your cheeks, red nose and a red painted smile. It didn’t look good, but you looked like a clown, and that’s all that mattered. 

—————————————————————

You spent the first half of your shift at a kids birthday party, the second half was spent spinning a sign outside of a pizza parlor. It may not sound like hard work but you were tired once you arrived back at the office, it was dark, rainy, and cold, you just wanted to get home.

The dressing room was empty, all of the men had packed up and left by the time you got back. You opened your locker, then took a seat to take off your clown shoes. Relief settled in as you slowly started to peel off the many layers of your costume. You remained in your undergarments, finding a freeing comfort in the empty space. 

It was silent as you sat there relaxing, taking deep breaths, letting your eyes close. The paint on your face had grown tight, you raised your eyebrows and watched the white paint flake into you lap. It was a satisfying feeling to watch your mask crumble off. 

You reached an arm up to your neck, forcing your fingers in deep, massaging off the tension of the day. Clowning around was hard work. Suddenly, you heard a door open in the distance. The sound startled you, and you got to your feet. Your eyes moved around the room in search of a towel or robe, something to cover up your barren body incase anyone walked in. It was futile, there was nothing. You rummaged through your locker in search of the clothes you had worn to work. You heard the rhythmic pattern of steps approaching as you finally fished out your large tee shirt. You quickly pulled it over your head as he walked in. His gaze was fixed to his hands, unaware that there was another body in the room. 

You pulled down your shirt uncomfortably in attempt to cover your lower half, but the slight motion caused him to look up, startled. He stopped in his tracks and looked to you with wide eyes, letting out a gasp before turning around swiftly. 

“I-I-I’m s-sorry!” he blurted out in a strained voice, “I didn’t think anyone would be here.” 

You quickly found your pants and pulled them on, “it’s ok,” you said softly, aware of the clear distress in his voice, “I’m all dressed now it’s ok.” 

He turned around, brows furrowed, he let out a pained nassely chuckle before a cough ripped through his chest, causing him to reach up and grab his throat. You cringed at his apparent discomfort and felt the urge to go over and rub his back. He looked meek and gentle, mostly tired. His clown makeup was smudged terribly with traces of what looked like blood. He stood tall but his posture was defeated. He looked different than other man that you had seen in the dressing room, more delicate. 

He ran a shaky hand through his rather greasy hair, you could see his embarrassed cheeks through the faded white on his face, “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in on you, I’ll let you be, I’m sorry.” You could hear the shame in his voice, and he turned around to leave, 

“Wait,” you said desperately, “I’m just finishing up, you don’t have to leave, I’m new here, I should have locked the door, it’s my fault.” 

He turned around, gave you a weak smile and walked over to the vanity, placing a plaid duffel bag down. He audibly winced as he sat down before flicking on the incandescent light bulbs that framed the mirror. As you gathered up your things that were spewed about you noticed the extent of his facial injuries in the light. His upper lip was caked in blood from his nose and he had a deep gash above his painted eyebrow. You watched him flinch in pain as he held up a dirty rag to the cut. 

“My goodness,” you said faintly, “what happened to you?” You walked over to him slowly, standing beside him now, he looked up at you timidly. “Here,” you said, taking the rag from his hand cautiously, “I can do it if you like, I know how painful it is to clean a gash like that.” 

He closed his eyes and nodded, “please, thank you, that’s very kind,” he said with a cracking voice. 

You took a half empty water bottle off the vanity and poured a little on the rag, he tipped his head back and you leaned in close, “Ok, this is going to sting a little bit, just bear with me.” You placed the rag onto the cut gently and he let out a groan, clutching the arms of the chair. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts, we’re almost done,” you said in your most soothing voice. You cleared the wound and the surrounding area of any face paint then patted it dry lightly. You took a couple of fresh tissues and folded them, placing them directly on the cut. You held it there with slight pressure until it clotted with blood. You continued in silence and tenderly patted away the blood under his nose. You were close to his face and the stench of cigarettes and sweat overwhelmed you. It wasn’t utterly repulsive, you probably smelled similar, but there was a distinctive undertone of musky pine, probably from his aftershave or deodorant. The mixture was actually quite pleasant and strangely familiar. 

He stared at himself in the mirror as you finished cleaning up his face. The act of wiping away his makeup felt very intimate. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the intrusive thought of this. “Ok I think that’s the last of it,” you said rubbing away the last bit of dried blood. 

He looked up at you gratefully, “thank you.”

You smiled, “don’t worry about it.” 

You put the rag back down then continued to gather your things in silence. You glanced over to him and he remained staring at his reflection. His eyes were vacant and his face still. You recognized this look, he was dissociating. Having been familiar with this state yourself, you decided to break the silence, to snap him out of his trance. You had always been grateful for those who had done this for you. 

“So do you know of any good places to grab a drink?” You said while you zipped up your bag and flung it onto your shoulder. 

He turned to you slowly, “what?” He questioned softly, as if you had spoken to someone else. You repeated the question with a slight smile. “Oh right,” he said with a strained voice, “Um I don’t really go get drinks, so I’m not sure.” His gaze fell on his lap and he started to bounce his leg idly. 

This wasn’t the answer you were looking for. You hoped he would have mentioned a place, then you would have said something along the lines of ‘maybe I’ll go there, would you like to join?’ Then you would’ve gone out and hopefully learned more about this mysteriously bruised co worker. You thought that he was intriguing, simply because he didn’t act or look like any of the other men who worked at Ha Ha’s. And more specifically he didn’t look at you like you were a piece of meat, which was refreshing. 

“That’s ok, I shouldn’t waste my money anyway.” You tried to sound nonchalant, “I’ll see ya around I guess, hope your night gets better.” He gave you a weak smile in response then turned back to the mirror. 

As you walked down the hall, you thought you heard sobbing or laughter, or both, you weren’t sure. But as you left the building a sudden pang of guilt hit you. You felt bad for the guy, he looked pretty beaten up and you don’t get those kinds of injuries from taking a fall, someone did that to him on purpose. You turned around and walked back towards the building, your body moving without thought. 

You took a deep breath before entering the dressing room again, attempting to muster up the courage for what you were going to do next. You entered and he was still at the vanity, he looked up to you in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. 

“Do you wanna maybe hang out sometime? I mean I’m new here, in the city, and I don’t have many friends, and you’re the first person who hasn’t been a complete asshole. I mean only if you want, I understand if you’re like busy or something.” You bit your tongue hard as he looked at you tilting his head a bit as if he was confused. You counted as three painful seconds past. You took his silence as a no, “It’s totally fine if you don’t, I understand, I’ll see you around.” 

You turned around and started to walk out, “Wait” he said, his voice cracking slightly. You turned and faced him, the corners of his mouth were twitching up into a soft smile. “I'd like that,” he said sweetly, “when?” 

“When are you free,” you said trying to hide your excitement, you didn’t think he would say yes. 

He looked around the room, “right now?” He asked. 

“Yeah! Do you wanna come over? I live a few blocks away, I can let you finish up here and you could meet me there, or whatever.” You said, trying your best to sound casual. 

“Ok,” he said quietly with a gentle smile, “I can do that.” 

“Great! Let me write down my address for you.” You walk over to the table and tore off a bit of newspaper. You scribbled down the address and handed it to him. “Alright so I’ll see you in a few.” 

“Yeah,” he smiled.

As you walked home you couldn’t help but question why you took a liking to this man. Something about him drew you in, something unexplainable. It was a strange feeling, almost familiar. You always questioned everything, but decided to that you wouldn’t question this. There was freedom in letting things happen, and you would come to this realization very soon. 


	2. Chapter 2

You paced the span of your living room nervously. You never had a guy over just to  _ hang.  _ It was always about sex if you decided to bring a man back, usually drink a little, smoke some weed then fuck. They would always leave right away, taking the hint that you didn’t want to make any conversation. No snuggling, no small talk, just getting down to business. Gotham proved that it wasn’t the place to find a guy worthy of anything else besides a good fuck, so you didn’t like to waste your time. But this was different. This man seemed kind, gentle, and maybe a little sad. You knew he needed a friend, and honestly so did you. 

You plopped down on the couch and reached for your drink, gin and tonic with a slice of lime, but you opted for all gin with a splash of tonic instead. You took a large sip, the juniper bite of the liquor stinging your throat slightly. You let out a satisfied sigh but the nerves hit again. You were worried that it would be awkward, you didn’t know what to talk about, or what to do. Would you pour him a drink and spill your life story, or would you put on the TV and sit in silence? You stared at the wall as your mind went static trying to figure out what to do. 

The trance snapped when Peanut, your all black cat, hopped into your lap with a little meow. You greeted him happily and gave him a scratch on the face, he responded by tapping you with his paw lightly, he was frisky. Suddenly, an idea came to you. Peanut was a shy cat so you would play games with him to loosen up, it worked well, and you gained Peanut’s friendship. This man reminded you of Peanut, he was shy but gentle, with a spark of something stirring underneath. So you decided that you would play a game, an icebreaker of sorts, maybe never have I ever, or two truths and a lie. You took another sip and smiled. It was perfect. 

There was a soft knock on the door, Peanut jumped down and headed over to investigate. It was sure to be him. You peeked through the eyehole, he was standing there with hands shoved in his pockets. He was wearing a white button down and navy blue sweater vest on top. He looked better than before, less disheveled. You opened the door and greeted him with a smile, 

“Hi! Come on in!” You said a little too eager, he smiled in response and walked in. You closed the door behind him, 

“Please make yourself at home, do you want a drink? I can make it, or I can get you a beer or whatever.” You stumbled over your words nervously and he took a seat on the couch. 

“I’m all set thank you though, I’m Arthur by the way,” he said with a raspy mumble. You took a seat next to him on the couch facing him, back leaned up against the arm rest and one leg pulled up to your chest. He looked over and gave a weak smile, you picked up your drink and took a sip. 

“Well I’m glad you came Arthur, making friends in Gotham is harder than it seems.” 

“I know,” he replied, stuttering slightly, “thanks for cleaning me up back there and inviting me over, it was really sweet of you, you didn’t have to do that.” His gaze fell on his lap and his fingers interlaced each other with white knuckles.

“Please, it was no problem really. You seem like a really nice guy, and I’ve been in similar situations where I wished someone would have helped me out.” You smiled softly and he returned the glance. Suddenly, Peanut jumped up to the empty space between you two with a meow. You instinctively started petting him then noticed that Arthur had gone tense. 

“It’s okay,” you said reassuringly, “this is Peanut, he’s super friendly! Go ahead and give him a pet!” Arthur looked at you wearily and let out a deep whiny chuckle. He slowly reached his hand out and Peanut automatically nudged into it, rubbing it against his whole body. He looked up to you as if to ask permission to keep going. He started to scratch his head, which gave way to some audible purrs. Arthur smiled at this. “See he likes you!” You said endearingly, “I knew Peanut would approve.” Arthur let out another small giggle and shifted in his seat. 

“So,” you said cheerily, “I was thinking we could play a game to like, get to know each other, or if you don’t want to do that we could always watch a movie or something, I just got a vhs player.” 

He smiled at you, “we could play a game, I’d like that.” 

“Great,” you said grinning, “how about two truths and a lie? You tell me two things that are true and one thing that’s a lie and then I have to guess which one is the lie.” 

He nodded and pulled out a pack of cigs, removing one, sparking it up, “okay, can you start?” He asked gently through a puff of smoke. 

“Of course,” you said kindly, “let’s see,” you looked around the room and back to him, “ok I got it,” you took another sip of your drink, “I was a circus clown before I was a party clown, I don’t like cats, and I’m glad you decided to come.” 

You watched Arthur’s brows furrow a moment before his lips twitched into a smile. “Well,” he said taking a deep drag, “I know you like cats, um because you have one,” he motioned to Peanut who was on the floor now. “So that was the lie.” He took another drag and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Yes. Very good observations Arthur.” You giggled at yourself, now feeling the gin warm your fingertips and toes.

“So you were a circus clown?” He asked smiling bashfully, a pink hue looming in his sunken cheeks. 

“Ya, a while ago, didn’t like it.” You took another gulp of you drink, “your turn now.” You gave him a wide smile. 

“Okay um,” he looked around the room and started bouncing his legs. “I love Murray Franklin show, I’m a pretty good dancer, and I’m from California.”

You looked at him curiously, “you do look like you could be a good dancer, so I believe that, I don’t know what Murray Franklin show is, so I’m not sure, and I guess you could be from California?” You giggled at him and he smiled, letting out a little laugh while shaking his head. 

“You got it all wrong,” he said, giving you a sloppy smile, “I do love Murray Franklin show and I’m from Gotham not California, but I want to go there some day ya know, have you been?”

You finished your drink and placed the empty glass on the coffee table, now fully feeling the calming blanket of drunkness. “No, but I feel like that’s where dreams come true, so I want to go.” He stayed smiling as you spoke, eyes glinting in the dim lighting, he looked happier than he did in the dressing room. Silence fell for a brief moment and you allowed your glance to linger on him, maybe influenced by the gin, but more from the fact that he looked utterly handsome, a fact you wished you hadn’t acknowledged.

“So, now you gotta prove to me that you’re a good dancer,” you got up and walked over to your old record player, you placed the needle down and scratches of soft jazz filled the room. You turned to him and motioned for him to get up, “come on, we can dance together.” 

He reluctantly got off the couch and ran a nervous hand through his hair, but remained smiling as you reached out your hands for him to take them. He moved in close to you and gently placed your hands on his body. You adjusted your hands accordingly and looked up into his eyes, as if to ask if you were doing this correctly. He nodded and smiled, now slowly swaying the both of you to the swells of music. 

You looked down, suddenly feeling a bit shy and self conscious, “sorry,” you laughed, “I haven’t danced with anyone in a while.” 

“It’s okay,” he said softly with a smile, “you’re doing great.” He pulled you in a little closer, you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t being hyper aware of his touch on you. You started to settle into the rhythm and noticed he was humming along to the music, “see, now you’re getting it,” he said reassuringly. He removed one hand from your body and stepped out, allowing you to spin into his arms with a flourish. 

“See,” he said excitedly, “you’re not a bad dancer!” You laughed in response as the two of you swayed around the living room, letting the music move you. 

“Well you have most definitely proven to me that you are a good dancer Arthur.” You said with a soft smile. Suddenly, the music stuttered and scratched out, leaving the two of you in each others grasp in an awkward silence. You pulled away gently, “sorry, I guess the rest of the vinyl is scratched.” You moved to the record player, soft crackles and static filled the room, Arthur returned to his seat on the couch. Out of the corner of your eye you watched as he restlessly adjusted his seat, ever so slightly bouncing his legs. You flipped the player off, deciding that it was too much to deal with in your currently tipsy state. You moved to the couch and plopped down, sitting the same way you were before, facing him.

His eyes were fixed to his fingernails where he was mindlessly picking at his cuticles, he didn’t notice you staring intently. Through your intoxicated haze you noticed the finite details of his face, the ever prominent dimples, his glossy eyes and long, dark eyelashes. There was a strange beauty to him, stern but almost feminine. You felt an unusual allure towards him, maybe from the gin and the fact that you haven’t been truly attracted to a man since you moved to Gotham. An urge of lust washed over you adburtbutly and before you could stop yourself you placed a hand on his thigh. He looked up immediately at your touch, and with wide eyes he stared back at you as slurred words started to spill from your mouth. 

“You know Arthur, you’re like  _ really  _ handsome.” You kept your hand on his thigh as his gaze shifted from your eyes to your hand rapidly. He didn’t respond. “I bet you get that all the time though.” You withdrew your hand and smiled at him, feeling a twinge of rejection as he just stared back at you in silence. “I’m sorry,” you said dismissively, “that was really forward of me.” He still looked back at you in silence and you grew uncomfortable under his blank gaze. You wanted to do anything to break the awkward silence but couldn’t think, your mind was a blur along with your vision and anxiety churned the contents of your stomach, you felt sick. Then, that unmistakable feeling crept up your chest and into your throat, your face drained of color, and your skin went cold. You sprinted to the bathroom and slammed the door without thought. You fell to knees before the toilet just in time as the contents of your stomach were expelled violently. 

You coughed heavily and got up to your feet with a sigh, flushing the toilet. You splashed water on your face and washed your hands before sloshing around some mouthwash. You dreaded walking out of that door and having to apologize again, you felt like an utter fool, he clearly was not interested. You opened the door slowly and kept your gaze on the floor, “I’m sorry,” you started and then looked up. The couch was empty, the room was empty, you looked quickly to the front door, it was open. You ran to hallway and looked left and right. You called out, “Arthur?” 

You were met with silence, he was gone. 


End file.
